Vomit

How am I ever going to write when I can't get all this other shit out of my head? There are about a gazillion things that need to be done right now, or that the wife wants to do, and all of it seems to involve me coming up with more money. The money doesn't bother me that much, we always seem to find a way. It's the weight of all this stuff in my head. Every time I want to sit down and write for awhile all I can see in my mind's eye is a cloud of stress. Al the things I haven't done yet, or have been putting off, or that I know are looming just ahead.

Is there some tick to clearing the mind that I don't know about? Part of me is hoping the answers will come to me like some magical epiphany. Which just makes me think more about what I discussed in my last blog. By the way, I did make an appointment with a doctor, but the appointment is for April. I'm trying hard not to panic too much. Here I am thinking I'm doing something important, taking that almighty step in the right direction, and I have to wait THREE MONTHS!

Aside from that, I've had a long argument with myself about all the reasons and ways I'm finding to stall actually writing. I've decided to allow myself to read Stephen King's "On Writing" and Anne Lamott's "Bird By Bird", to sort of motivate myself, then I'm allowed no more excuses. I must write something, anything, for at least an hour and a half everyday that I'm able to do so. And that should be at least four days a week. Sometimes I have to work until noon and get up at seven in the evening just to go back to work again. It'll be near impossible to find time on days like that, but those days aren't coming around as often as they use to.

Whether or not I actually stick to my guns about writing everyday that I can is another issue in and of itself. I know from past experience that I am notoriously lenient on myself when it comes to things like this. I'm slow to punish and quick to reward when I finally do what I said I was going to do.

The truth is; I'm being kind of a weeny about all this. It can't possibly be as hard as I'm making it on myself. Just write. Write whatever comes to mind. It doesn't have to be perfect in anyway, it just has to be words made into sentences, made into paragraphs, and so on. I can't even make myself do that.

I want too much for what I write to be a really great book. It doesn't have to be. In fact the only thing I should worry about right now is just the writing. Not what will happen after I've done the writing. Talk about getting way ahead of myself.

I also worry that my time is passing me by. I've put in almost no work at all, nor have I for many years. Even when I was putting in some work, it wasn't as much as it should have been. There are exceptions to everything, but I would imagine that most authors write several books before one ever gets published. Perhaps I'll be one of the fortunate few, but I doubt it. I'm only waisting time by not writing.

I just can't stand the idea of writing something shitty, but that's exactly what has to happen. I have to give myself permission to write shitty for awhile, and really mean it. But that's the thing, I don't mean it yet. Why I can't just let loose and write the really shitty shit, I don't know. I'm still working on that. There's a reason and I'm eventually going to figure it out. Hopefully it's something that is easy to remedy.

Now maybe that I've gotten this out there I can start writing.

I Need More Drugs In My LIfe

Sometimes I wish I were narcoleptic. Seriously. That way when I got overwhelmed I could just fall asleep. Actually, if that were the case I'd be comatose not narcoleptic. The longer this need to improve my life continues, the more wrongs I feel I have to right, the more overwhelmed I become. Only recently have I become aware of how easily I get overwhelmed.

Most people, myself included, probably think I'm lazy. I realize now that I'm not lazy. I want to get things done, and if I have only one thing to concentrate on I can get it done and usually do it well. The more things I have that need to be done less I end up actually doing. It even sounds lazy. The truth is, when I start piling thing after thing onto my mental to-do list, the more my drive to do anything at all shuts down.

I can see now why as a child I was placed into the categories of slacker and A.D.D. I could go into the whole do-I-really-have-A.D.D. thing, but the short and skinny is, I don't think I have it. If zoning out in front of a T.V. or leaving your head for a minute while someone is talking to you about something you're not interested in means you have A.D.D., then I think we've all got it. It's a nationwide epidemic, not a disorder. It's an epidemic we've brought upon ourselves. I don't know this for certain but I'd guess there was no such thing as A.D.D. before the television was invented.

Yes, like half a gazillion other kids I was tested for A.D.D. and told I had a problem paying attention. NO SHIT?!? Kids shouldn't be tested for an attention deficit, of course they have it. THEY ARE CHILDREN! I mean, is this really that big of a deal? Sure, I've known a few people who have benefited from Retalin, but I don't think two-thirds of the nations kids should be taking it. If it's really that bad why not just candy- or chocolate-coat the latest in attention expander's and call them Do Not Eat This No Matter What.

I've gotten I little off subject here. The point I was going to make is, I don't blame my parents for thinking I had A.D.D. I had troubling getting things done on a regular basis. It wasn't because I couldn't pay attention long enough to do it. I would start to think about all the other things I had to do as well and I would shut down physically and mentally. I couldn't, and still can't, do any one thing on list of things to do because I was so overwhelmed by the list as a whole.

I'm certain I have some sort of disorder or imbalance, and I'm in the process of working towards correcting that. I've spent most of my life being too stubborn to think I had anything wrong with me. Or perhaps the world was not ready for a less overwhelmed me until now. I think everybody is a little fucked up in some way or another, and I guess I figured if all the other crazies could make it through life without popping attitude enhancers, so could I.

Now, with my wife and kids, and this need for a better life, I sing a different tune entirely. I've changed my status to pro-whatever-will-make-this-easier-on-me. Drugs. Supplements. Herbs. Ointments. Topical creams. Bring 'em all on...so long as it helps.

I want to enjoy my life more. I want things to be better, not just for me, but for everyone in my family.

I can't do it by sheer force of will anymore. I need a little help.

I'm okay with that now.

Friendship And The Friendship Hearing Test

I've been thinking about friendship lately. I've had my share of friends. Some good, some bad, some mostly just in passing. I've never actually recalled a time in my life when I couldn't make friends. I'm sure my parents will promptly inform you of a time in my life when I was certain I would never have another friend again. So, let's say friends have been easy to come by since junior high school. I still have a lot of people that I know and can hang out with, but I don't have any friends that are really close to me. Except my wonderful wife. At this moment in my life, I just don't need much else. I can talk to her about anything with honesty and the freedom of knowing that no matter what the conversation, she's still going to love me when it's over.

What brought this up was a good friend of mine, whom I hadn't talked to in a long while, called me the other day just to see what was going on in my life these days. There was no good reason that I know of for our break in communication, except that maybe we both realized we were heading in very different directions and had been for a long time. I don't mean to say that in order to be my friend you have to have the same lifestyle as me. I don't care about that. What matters is the other person has to understand my situation. My friend has no kids, and is single. More power to him if that's what he wants, it's just not the life for me.

All this got me to thinking about all my other friends from high school. There is one I know of for sure that has a family, and is secure in that lifestyle. Everybody else I know about is either single-no-kids, or single-with-kids. Nobody I use to know seems capable of having a meaningful relationship with a partner. Maybe they don't want that, which is fine. I just can't believe only one person out of all the people I use to know have found a partner.

And how strange that I should be the one with this life. Actually, it's not strange at all now that I think about it. Having met the woman of my dreams in 8Th grade, I knew I was going to be married and have kids someday, I guess I just didn't think the kids would come so soon. Still, I couldn't ask for a better family.

Anyway, I was wondering what has become of some of these old friends that I didn't keep in touch with. How many of them have lives like mine? I wouldn't think very many of them do, but how would I know? I'm sure that are ways to get in touch with people you haven't spoken to in ten years or more, but I don't think I'm quite that interested.

Speaking of friendships, my wife is having a fight with a friend of hers. I almost never get both sides of the story in these situations, partly because I'm always going to side with my wife anyway. And I'm not a big fan of drama.

However, this is a person that my wife is very close to, and I know it's a very sensitive situation for her. So, I read their joint blog (sorry, honey), and got the full scope of things. What really stood out with me is that we, as in most people, have a tendency to hear what we want to hear, or what we think we are going to hear. This seems especially true in emotional situations.

Sometimes when somebody says, "I didn't much care for that movie," when asked about our favorite movie, we sometimes hear, "Anybody who actually likes that movie is a boring, selfish, uninteresting prick."

"I just want to spend sometime alone," becomes "I've suddenly realized I don't like you anymore and I'd like to never see you again."

"I think you'd look better in a lighter shade of lipstick," becomes "Maybe you should just get your ass transplanted onto you neck. It'd certainly be an improvement."

You get the point.

No body's perfect, even if we think they are. Friends will sometimes let you down, or hurt your feelings, or make you feel like the most insignificant fucker on the planet. More often than not, those are never their intentions. Sometimes people say shit they don't really mean. Sometimes things are going to get said all wrong. And sometimes we hear what we want, or expect, to hear.

All relationships are a challenge at some point or another. What fun would it be if every relationship didn't challenge us in some way?

If you can't handle that...you were probably a friend of mine in high school.

Good Daddy, Bad Daddy

My oldest kids have gotten into the habit of hitting when they don't get what they want, and I'm not sure what to do about it. I can tolerate it for a little while, depending on my mood. Then once they've passed my tolerance threshold I snap and hit them back. Not hard. I don't want to give the impression that I beat my kids or anything, but it's hard to react to them hitting me by hitting them back. I have a feeling that this is not the answer to the problem.

Inevitably, after this exchange, which ever child it is will start to cry, and I feel like the worst parent in the world. So, I comfort them and apologize for losing my temper. After life goes back to its usual chaos I wonder just how bad I'm screwing my kids up. How many hours of therapy am I causing my poor children?

I can't imagine this game of good daddy, bad daddy is good for my children's Psyche. It must be like living with a really tall schizophrenic person. One minute I'm yelling at them, the next I'm a source of comfort. I'm not a naturally anger person. I don't loss my temper very easily, but maybe I should consider some sort of anger management. However that still doesn't solve the hitting problem. I'm sure there's some sort of Dr. Spock solution that I won't really agree with. Even if kids did come with an instruction manual I doubt it would apply much to my kids. Or anybody else's kids for that matter. I'm sure at some point this issue will work itself out. I hope so anyway.

What Am I Waiting For?

Some part of my brain seems to think I need permission to start writing. Perhaps I'm waiting for some god-like voice in my head, "writing to commence in five, four, three, two, one." Only then will the flood gates open and best sellers will start to pour from my fingers as if I were Nora Roberts with a penis. Or maybe a young James Patterson, except he cheats and uses co-authors to write his first drafts.

Or perhaps I'm waiting for some published writer to approach me, place his hand on my shoulder, and tell me, "You are ready. I'm retiring and the world needs you to take my place." Although most writers seem to die rather than retire, but you could use the same sort of scenario with me being summoned to said writers deathbed.

One way or another, I'm waiting for something that, in all likely hood, is never going to happen. The only person I really need permission from is myself. I have to let all these mental blocks go and just start writing. Sounds easy, doesn't it? Hell, I don't know, maybe it is. But so far I'm still on the first word of the first sentence of the first paragraph of the first page. So far I have, "The". Not a bad start I guess. However I'm thinking of changing it to, "A". But it doesn't have quite the same ring to it.

I have to think the actual writing will begin at some point. The fact that I even have a blog in a step in the right direction. Mostly I'm just telling myself shit I already know, but it's certainly better than staring at that blinking cursor mocking me from one space away from my blessed "The".